


All Hail The Queen

by Unlikelyoptimist



Series: Warring Factions [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hell, Post Season 8, Regime Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlikelyoptimist/pseuds/Unlikelyoptimist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for a regime change. Abaddon may have left behind her vessel, but she's got plans of her own now. With Crowley vulnerable and most of the angels down for the count, Abaddon seeks help in unlikely places and gains an ally with an agenda of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hail The Queen

Abaddon walked through hell, glancing around in disgust. The place had really been let go since she’d been gone; when she’d learned about the “waiting in line” form of torture, she’d had to massacre an entire family just to feel like her old self again. Some traditions didn’t need messing with, no matter what some jumped up little piece of filth calling himself king might think. Torture was supposed to be a craft, an art, something that required effort and creativity. Crowley had reduced it to a businesslike, “one size fits all” deal.

Just one more reason why Crowley deserved to be boiled in salt and holy water, she supposed.

The deeper layers of hell, she was relieved to find, had remained mainly untouched. The layer of blood and smoke that swirled through the air, the sheer aura of pain that fed her power. And of course, the fire that burned, flickering shyly before devouring in rage. This was the home that she’d been yearning for. Demon and tortured soul alike shrank back; it had been long since one had been present, but a knight of hell demanded respect.

Abaddon ignored all. They were beneath her, anyways, a distraction from her greater purpose. It was time for a regime change, indeed, and she knew she needed some heavy hitters in her corner if she was going to be queen. Crowley was conniving and clever, a slimy little sneak that would require a certain finesse to deal with.

Finally, she'd reached her destination. She drew in a deep breath, adopting a softened, less brazen demeanor, painting on the deception.

“Father, I have returned.”

Lucifer shifted within his cage. There was a presence, a voice that he hadn’t heard for years.

“Abaddon, my faithful child. Your absence has pained me.”

She bowed her head demurely. Lucifer might have given her the position of knight, raised her up and given her power. And like all the rest, she’d adored him for his beauty, his power. In time, she'd gained more perspective. Why bow to another king? She was tired of them. Kings came and went, entering in chaos and leaving with defeat.

But she would be a queen; worshipped, desired, revered. The demons would fall at her feet, desperate to gain approval, wanting nothing more than to be enslaved to her. It was what they needed, wanted. It was what they were meant for.

So she bowed her head demurely, but inwardly she spat on her fallen king, her disgraced father.

“Father, the demon Crowley has usurped the leadership of Hell.” Lucifer simply nodded. Michael gazed at them both with disdain, shocked that his brother still had the energy to keep up this pretense, of loving and caring for these twisted servants. For his part, Lucifer knew that Abaddon couldn’t free him. Not yet, anyways, and not with her power alone. However, if she led hell, a former lackey, then he could shape her from afar, and a queen was a more powerful piece on the chessboard than a mere knight.

“You know what must be done. From the whisperings, I gather that the Winchesters have done much to aid in Crowley’s downfall.” His voice grated on the humans’ names, and the Cage shook and rattled as it strained to contain his grace. Abaddon shrank back slightly. She had almost forgotten the power of his rage, the allure. If only it could be harnessed for her own cause, taken from him, then she would become a true force to be reckoned with...but that was a musing for another time.

“I’ve encountered the Winchesters before; they are not to be underestimated, but I know they can be used to my advantage.” She knew better now than to try and use one against the other; the ferocity with which they defended one another had been the downfall of more than one seemingly invulnerable force. On the other hand, it seemed that the demon, Ruby, had been one of the most effective ways to divide and conquer the brothers. Her death was the loss of a valuable asset.

Lucifer eventually gained control of his grace, the flares of power dying down. “The Cage cannot be opened…but it can be cracked. Not enough for me to slip through myself, but enough for me to give you a gift. Consider it my blessing on your rule.”

For the first time in the exchange, Abaddon was surprised. A gift? Surely not his own grace; he was too cautious for that. It would be too easy. His brother’s, maybe? For the first time, Michael finally showed interest in the conversation.

“Brother, just what do you plan on giving your minion? We have nothing to give.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, but I do. Here lies your problem, Michael; you never learned to utilize your resources as well as I did. I suppose you never had to; Father gave you anything you needed, from your power to your army. I made my own, tore it from the Earth around me. A lesson you should consider learning.” A ripple appeared in the smooth walls of the Cage, resembling a crack in a bone. It widened slightly, and to her shock, a creature was forced through to fall at her feet, standing slowly.

The form was human, but it was cloaked with tendrils of black smoke and the eyes shone with a dusky silver light. Huge wings of extended behind it; leathery like the wings of a bat, the color of tar shot through with vermillion veins.

“This is my protégé, Abaddon; less than angel, more than demon. Our grace has tainted him, and the torture transformed him. He will be a fitting soldier for your cause.” She surveyed him curiously. Truly, the term abomination did him justice; it was different than any creature she had ever encountered. There was a pained, fearsome beauty to it, a slow sluggish rage that corroded like a poison against the skin.

“I thank you, father. Creature, by what shall I call you?” “My name was once Adam.” She smiled, reaching out and stroking his cheek. The thrum of raw power was enticing, addicting. This was no idle servant, no mere soldier; he would be her lieutenant, her ace.

“Adam. In return for your loyalty, I allow you whatever luxuries or pleasures you desire.” She had no desire to underestimate an unknown variable; for now, a guise of reasonable generosity might suit her well.

For the first time, Adam smiled, and suddenly the abyss loomed before her, ready to devour. “I want the Winchesters.”


End file.
